Beyond Rapport
by Tono Radish
Summary: I'm not one to usually make reports, but this one incident had to be shared in my opinion, this incident being the LABB Murder Cases. Not so much the murders themselves but the man who committed them.


I'm not one to usually make reports, but this one incident had to be shared in my opinion, this incident being the LABB Murder Cases.

Once, not so long ago, in a place called Los Angels a series of mysterious and gruesome murders took place. I read about it in the papers but had to wonder more. Who exactly was this Beyond Birthday person? Why did he commit such crimes? Why had he set himself on fire? Could he not live with himself for the things he had done? But why choose fire? That's what the newspaper does. It doesn't tell you anything important, just what they think you should be allowed to know.

And thus, so many people will never know of Beyond Birthday.

Lately, I have grown accustomed to eating raw cucumbers from start to finish. I never liked cucumbers but I found myself eating them anyway. After the cucumber I would eat at all the sweets I had purchased the day before. I had éclairs, macaroons, baklava, pepero, ice cream, maple syrup, and, on a more recent note, jam.

Don't ask me how I knew this but I had found that Beyond Birthday was of the jam persuasion. I intended to visit him today in prison.

Before me sat a man with black hair and smudged bags under his eyes. I opened the jam and slid it over to him. His hands were cuffed so I offered him a spoon. He nodded no and picked up the jar and began to drink it.

He finished and I looked into his eyes, his dark blue gray eyes. A little jam remained by the side of his pail mouth. He was so white that he looked almost gray. This man has never seen the sun. I told him where the jam was and he licked it.

"You're obviously not a police officer nor an interrogator. And I don't suspect you to be a reporter. So tell me, why have you come here and how were you granted clearance to speak with me? I'm not sure if you know this or not, but I am a killer. Though you did know of my taste for jam, so I supposed you did know. Even so I should tell you that I have killed three people. The first man I carved roman numerals into his chest, the second was a little girl, and the third was a woman who I tried to kill without cutting her. He blood just coagulated inside her skin and her limbs turned a purpely red. I decided that she would die of blood loss and I cut off those purple limbs, being an arm and a leg. The leg I left in her bath tub and the arm I took with me."

"Where's the arm?"

He only stared at me.

"I suppose it doesn't really matter who you are," he continued, "would you like to know who I am?"

"Didn't you just tell me?"

"No, those were things I did."

"Alright."

Upon meeting him he told me that he was first and foremost a detective without an ego. I didn't quite understand. Was this a crack at the detective who caught him? The world famous detective who has never once lost a case, the detective who went by L. Was this all for L?

"As a detective you have secrets right?" I asked.

"No."

I stared at him and he smiled, "Yes."

"Will you tell me?"

"They wouldn't be secrets then."

"They could be secrets between you and me?"

"I don't think so."

I stared at him, unable to wrap my head around him. His person was strange to look at. I admired his burns. I did mention he had burns didn't I? Well I know I stated he set himself on fire.

"I set myself on fire."

"No I wasn't staring!"

"I didn't say you were…"

"Why did you try to set yourself on fire?"

"Because then this case would remain unsolved."

"How?"

"How can you catch a killer if he is already dead?"

"Just because you're dead doesn't mean they wouldn't solve it."

"They… you mean L."

His voice should have been strained when he said L, at least I expected it to be. Instead it was normal, like he was talking about the weather. Then it clicked.

"You set yourself on fire so that you would look like a victim."

"Very good."

"We're you afraid of dying? I mean you knew it was going to hurt? Was there no other option?"

"No, I planned to die from the beginning."

"You aren't afraid."

He looked at me and then to the emptied jar of jam. I looked at the jar as well. There were still bits he could get out unless her used his hands or this spoon I had offered him. I offered him the spoon once more, but he nodded no.

"You have makeup under your eyes."

"Yes."

"Why haven't you washed it off?"

He stayed silent. Then his hand moved up to under his eye and he lightly rubbed the black area.

"Who are you trying to be?" I asked.

He smiled at this and stayed silent. Then he stood up. He slouched and he held the jar.

"Might I take this with me?"

"Sure?"

"Thank you. A pleasure talking with you."

Then he disappeared. I sat there for a moment. I just stared through the glass where he once was. This was Beyond Birthday.

When I left I found his voice creeping in and out of my skull. When I had thought I heard him I would turn around to face him but he would never be there. That night his shadow danced on my wall and when I would close my eyes he would be there, watching me and smiling an unnatural smile. Beyond Birthday was a human like any other. That isn't true though. Beyond Birthday was something entirely different from what our world was prepared to encounter. I doubt I should ever forget him for he had invaded my subconscious and followed me everywhere I went; that is until he died four months later, January first 2004, of a mysterious heart attack.

Respectfully yours,

T.


End file.
